


sing, o muse

by bisexualbluesargent



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Post-Thriller Bark, Pre-Time Skip, Sirens, Soul Bond, sort of.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualbluesargent/pseuds/bisexualbluesargent
Summary: The sirens were different than what Robin’s books had said.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 36
Kudos: 203





	sing, o muse

**Author's Note:**

> well. here we are
> 
> tw: themes of self harm

The sirens were different than what Robin’s books had said.

Robin’s books hadn’t said much, actually, other than that there were legends and myths and whispers about them in this part of the Grand Line. Sometimes they were there, sometimes they weren’t. No one really had proof of what they looked like. Mermaids, monsters, women, men, gods. It was rare that pirates escaped them alive, and yes, pirates had _died,_ swallowed up by the sea and the sirens’ jaws- typical scary pirate story fodder. Luffy had been exhilarated. Usopp had been sweaty. It was like any other challenge they had faced: unknown and on the water.

Zoro had forgotten about it almost immediately. It had almost been a week since Robin had mentioned them and Nami had tried her best to maneuver their ship around the area the people on the last island had said the sirens would be, and when Nami did her best, it was usually said and done. The loudest sounds Zoro had heard the past few days were Franky’s hammer, pounding against the hull for repairs, and Usopp and Chopper’s attempts at singing. Brook was trying to teach them to harmonize. Luffy was there, too, but he was utterly hopeless; Zoro was unable to take his afternoon naps as he once had.

“You think we’re past them?” Sanji had said, the day before, sliding elegant plates across the wood of Robin’s deck table. He was all lit up, as he always was around her and Nami, and Zoro had to look away, pretend he’d had his eyes closed all along.

“The sirens?” Robin cheerfully eyed him from behind her newspaper. Nami had already read it; Zoro had watched her hand it off to her with a flourish. “Who knows. We’re certainly somewhere.”

“Do you actually believe they’re real, Robin?” Sanji was fiddling with some flowers in a vase, the ends of his fingers perking up the drooping petals of a daisy, just starting to die. There was an absentminded tenderness to the action that Zoro knew well- a subconscious attitude that appeared when Sanji was drying off the final dish in a stack, when he made his bed in the morning, when he piped cream onto a miniature cake. A delicate way of moving his hands, a glint in his eye. Zoro couldn’t help himself. He watched, eyes narrowed, hands behind his head.

“Legends always hold some truth to them. Perhaps where we least expect it.” Robin smiled at Sanji, who flushed. “And our crew seems to have a knack for finding trouble, as we both know.”

Sanji nodded, a small smile forming as he looked away. His gaze caught on Zoro, who shut his own eyes as quickly and smoothly as he could. “Hm,” said Sanji, and Zoro thought he would say something to him, he felt it in the air, but instead he just heard the clatter of plates and the calculated steps of his feet past him into the kitchen, always the kitchen.

—

What Zoro did remember Robin’s books saying was that the sirens would be singing. There would be music. Every account of them was different, but it was always heard by a pair of people, only a pair, and then it was all fucked after that, apparently, but Zoro had stopped listening to the details because Luffy had started trying to steal his potatoes from his plate and that was an event that required his full attention. Sanji had been listening, though, quickly slipping into his seat at the table during the last third of the meal, as he often did on the best nights, passing Nami the pitcher of water and slapping Luffy’s hand away without even looking. Eyes attentive and his hands wrapped around his nice glassware. Zoro had space in his mind to notice that, of course. It was an unfortunate thing.

This had been days ago. Now he was restless, heart pounding as he fell asleep, dreams jagged and terrible, but that was how it was, now, ever since they’d left Thriller Bark, something in his mind gnawing at him, lonely and frustrated, angry at everything. And of course Sanji was the only one who knew what had happened, which made it worse, made the dreams worse- it was Sanji stepping in front of him and succeeding in sacrificing himself, in the dreams he could actually remember clearly. It was hard talking about anything, these days. Before, physical training had felt good. Now he felt his hands itching in the middle of the night, reaching for heavy things he felt he had to carry. Whatever. Whatever.

He woke up, heard himself let out a small gasp. He heard Luffy turn in his sleep on the bunk above him, heard Usopp let out a few words from a good dream. Franky wasn’t snoring tonight, thankfully. Zoro rarely slept in their quarters anymore, retreating to the crow’s nest, always volunteering to keep watch, but Luffy had started giving him these looks these days, whenever he did, so he’d let Sanji do it tonight, and Sanji had grumbled and whined about how he needed to get up early for breakfast tomorrow but had done it, in the end. Zoro didn’t know what to think about him up in that space that Zoro knew so well, his lines of dumbbells and metal bars and towels. It was so quiet there, at night, and he wondered what Sanji thought about, when he was alone. What it would look like if Zoro was there, too. Zoro was never the type to think about these things, but now he was, now he did.

_I’ll go and tell Sanji to switch with me,_ Zoro thought. He hoped that if Sanji was tired enough he wouldn’t protest or ask any questions. It was easier.

The ocean was almost still. Zoro walked out onto the deck without a rush, studying the tiny breeze. He loved the quiet but knew it often proceeded the worst things. No birds, no spray of water when you leaned over the railing. The plants on deck were swaying serenely. He felt like he needed to put a hand on his sword, but there was nothing around, just water and the moon, lovely, smiling, an edge to the light where there shouldn’t have been.

“Cook,” said Zoro, with some force. He was standing below the ladder to the crow’s nest, the ropes swinging just slightly. He didn’t want to go up there to get him. That would involve Sanji and a cramped space and he just couldn’t-

“Marimo,” replied Sanji casually, and from the way he said it, Zoro could tell he had a cigarette in his mouth. He was behind him.

Zoro slowly turned to him. “I’ll take watch,” he said, nodding because they could be done with it, then and there, and surely Sanji would like that.

Sanji huffed at him. “Like hell you will.” He took a few steps closer to Zoro, blowing out smoke. It was a long, drawn out motion, the beginning of a crooked smile forming at the corners of Sanji’s mouth, the smoke blowing into Zoro’s face, but he didn’t blink, would never.

“Get some sleep and get up early tomorrow, eyebrow,” said Zoro, jaw clenched already.

Sanji got even more in his space. “You think I’m just gonna _let you?_ You look like shit. _”_ His voice had gone low. “Martyr syndrome is a bad look for you, mosshead. Give it up for one night. C’mon.” 

Zoro just looked at him and started to walk away. Sanji grabbed his arm. “You can sleep in the crow’s nest, if you want.” His eyes darted away for a moment, and Zoro watched him suspiciously. He didn’t think about Sanji’s hand on his bare skin. He tried so hard not to think about it. Sanji met his eyes again. “I can- stay down here. I’m not even-“

Zoro wrenched his arm away. Sanji let him go, frowning. “I don’t want to sleep.”

Sanji thought about this for a minute. Zoro wanted to go, wanted to jump into the ocean, actually. Sanji exhaled more smoke, then raised an eyebrow. “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened but I’m fucking tired of-“

Zoro grabbed him by the shirt. “Tired people should go to sleep,” he snarled.

“Good one,” said Sanji, lowly, eyes on fire. “Hypocritical.” He fisted Zoro’s shirt in his hand and pushed him away. 

“Fuck you,” said Zoro, and then Sanji went in for a kick, everything suddenly in sharp focus, full color, the ocean humming like it was going to rise up to meet them. This he knew well. Sword out and the thump of their feet as they jumped on the deck, swift moves of his arm, trying to get Sanji’s thigh, his ankle. They were going easy on each other. Zoro didn’t think about why. Maybe it was the boredom. Maybe it was the conversation they didn’t want to have. Maybe it was-

“Wait,” hissed Zoro, stopping. 

Sanji, surprisingly, stopped his kick where it was. “What,” he said, looking around. His cigarette was simmering in the grass. He stubbed it out with his foot. Franky would not be pleased.

Zoro’s ears twitched again. “Do you hear that?” 

“Marimo-“

“Shut up. There’s something here.” Zoro placed his hand on the end of a sword, another familiarity. 

Sanji’s brow furrowed as he scanned the horizon. The darkness seemed to get thicker, and then there was singing, new and strange and suddenly very interesting. 

Zoro was leaning in. The waves were dancing. The Sunny was rocking. He heard someone laughing, and then he realized it was himself. _Where’s it all coming from,_ he thought, and something answered, _there, there, there,_ but when he tried to figure out the source it felt as if he trying to reach inside his chest towards his heart.

“Zoro,” said Sanji, and Zoro whipped his head back to look at him before he could stop himself, delighted, wanting to know if Sanji knew, if he heard it as well, wanted to hear him laugh, too, but Sanji’s expression was somewhere else. His eyes were very wide. The moon was a star clinging onto his pupils. “We need to go insi-“

—

Zoro blinked and he was in the infirmary. “Ugh,” he said, because he had always been so very articulate.

It was morning. The sun was honest where the moon wasn’t, mean when it wanted to be, and so today it was cruel, scratching through the glass of the windows to reach his skin. He’d torn off all of his sheets in the night, it seemed, and he-

He was secured to the bed. 

“What the fuck?” Zoro shook at his restraints. As soon as he’d woken up here, he’d felt a violent pull towards the other side of the room. If he didn’t think about it, it was like he had something left on a to-do list and was on his way to do it. If he _did_ focus on it, it was like he had never wanted anything else, like he’d die if he didn’t move, right then, running to whatever was calling him. He hadn’t wanted anything as much before. There wasn’t a before. There was only him and his desire, and it was terrible, he hated it, he had to _move-_

He shook some more. “Chopper!”

“Shut the fuck up, mosshead,” said Sanji, who was cooly staring at him from the other side of the room, eye contact unwavering. When Zoro looked at him it was like- it was like- a strike of lightning. He was shaking, suddenly. Sanji closed his eyes with an obvious force, and opened them again. “God fucking damn it.”

“Tell me what the fuck is happening.” Zoro glared at him. It was almost too much to look at him, but he couldn’t stop. Sanji was restrained to his bed, too. 

“The one fucking night,” Sanji was muttering, turning over a little to glower at the ceiling. Zoro could almost feel his anger coming off him in waves. Oceans and more oceans. “I hate this. I hate you.”

“I hate you too,” said Zoro automatically, through gritted teeth because he was trying really hard to get his arms to stop moving and trying to escape, and that was when Chopper came in, the rest of the crew minus Franky trailing behind him, faces both curious and kind of mournful. 

“Zoro, I’m going to need you to stay calm,” said Chopper, doctor voice on, and Zoro realized his legs were thrashing on the bed without him giving them express permission to. He kept darting glances at Sanji, who had his eyes closed now, pursing his lips at nothing, refusing to watch. Zoro felt hurt by this, for some reason, but he took a deep breath, nodded. “Tell me what’s happening to me,” he said. 

“Well,” said Chopper, shooting Robin a nervous look. 

She patted his head kindly. “The sirens,” she said simply, and Zoro inhaled, felt himself reaching for his swords. They weren’t there.

“And that means?”

“He wasn’t even paying attention,” sighed Nami airily, and Usopp nudged her, frowning, which meant that it was all going to be okay, if they were fooling around as usual, right?

Usopp twitched, pushed some hair behind his ear. “Well, uh, Zoro, you see-“

“You and Sanji are bonded together,” said Chopper, finally. 

Zoro blinked at him.

“If you touch each other, you’ll basically be married,” added Nami, almost smugly, almost amused, and Zoro hated her the most, actually.

“Maybe,” said Brook brightly.

“In a way,” said Robin calmly. 

Luffy only laughed at the look on his face. He was fiddling around with random objects on Chopper’s table, Chopper telling him not to every couple of seconds.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Zoro’s foot was bouncing on the mattress. He made it stop. Everyone watched him do it; the silence wandered on for a few moments too long.

“It means that if we don’t touch each other, it’s going to feel like this forever,” said Sanji. Everyone looked across the room at him with Zoro. He could almost feel the distance between them in his hands. 

“Okay,” said Zoro, allowing his wrist to slowly press up against the restraint until it hurt, just a bit. “So why aren’t we just doing that?”

“Because,” rumbled Sanji, hair in his face and looking perfect in the sunlight, “we don’t know what will _happen_ -“

Robin was flipping pages with Chopper, crouched down to his level, almost excited in her subdued, intellectual way. “The books indicated something like marriage. Something related to love. My theory is that it’s just symbolic. But we don’t know. It could be that the bond becomes even stronger. Or that you can never touch anyone else without dying. Or that you die immediately. A few accounts _were_ extreme.”

Zoro just looked at her. 

“But those are the worst case scenarios,” said Chopper quickly, waving at him. “Fairy tales, really!”

“Uh huh,” said Sanji, laughing bitterly. Zoro wanted to look over at him so badly.

“Don’t worry,” said Chopper, sympathetic and adorable, “we’re just going to keep an eye on you two for the next couple days while Robin and I research this more. It’s going to be okay.”

“The next island we arrive at might even have some more information.” Robin spared Zoro a glance as she dog-eared a page over Chopper’s shoulder. Nami, Brook, and Usopp were murmuring to each other, Nami grabbing Luffy by the ear when he started to get into the cabinet full of gauze.

“It _had_ to be you,” said Sanji quietly, voice cruel and uneven, and Zoro felt like he wanted to cry, but he hadn’t done that in years and years, so he pushed it back.

“Who did you want it to be?” said Zoro, angry, a dog left on a leash in the cold. “Sorry you couldn’t look over a fucking menu.”

Franky barged in. “Oh, they’re up,” he said, lifting his sunglasses high. Robin smiled at him, and he beamed back, saying, “Well, my dudes, be optimistic. This could be a fun experience. You’re gonna laugh about it later, I know it.” He came over to pat Zoro’s head in camaraderie, Zoro opening his mouth to yell.

—

The sirens were different than Robin’s books had said, because they began to follow their ship around even days after what many of them were now referring to as The Incident. The sirens didn’t look like anything. They weren’t physical, or, if they were, they were hidden, invisible. They were sounds; they were the tinkling of bells, the laughter of people you felt you knew but couldn’t place, they were old sea shanties played on older accordions like you were thrown back a hundred years or more.

They were driving Zoro crazy. Everyone could hear them now, but none of them were hearing the same things, apparently, because on that first day Sanji had jolted from his sleep in the infirmary and asked Zoro if he could hear a woman’s voice. Zoro had only heard cicadas, rising from their sleep, like he was a kid again, like he was back home with only the grass and his childhood resentment to fall back on. Nami had freaked out when she’d gone out later that afternoon to check the winds and heard wind rustling through trees like they were in a dense forest. But the noises didn’t do anything else except be heard. It seemed that Zoro and Sanji were on their own.

“Was it a woman you know?” Zoro had frowned at Sanji. Zoro wasn’t clear on Sanji’s sexuality, but he was clear on how much Sanji loved women. Another reminder of how ill-fated they were for each other, how tragic Zoro’s attraction to him was.

But then Sanji had mumbled, “My mother,” and Zoro’s pull to him got so strong he had to pinch his skin with his two fingers until Sanji saw him doing it and insulted him until he’d moved his hand away.

It had been two days and Zoro had been allowed to leave the infirmary. Sanji had been allowed to leave earlier, because when they’d taken off his restraints he hadn’t gone running over to Zoro like Zoro had done to him. Zoro, in fact, had thought he’d had it all under control until Chopper had unhooked only one and he’d bolted over to Sanji, the rest broken with sheer force, everyone screaming and shouting and Franky holding him back while Luffy had just watched, not really concerned so much as looking a little sad. The pull had lessened, though, over the next day, enough that Chopper had approved of his state after some tests and let him out of that goddamn _room_.

“Is Zoro okay?” Luffy mused later, talking around Zoro like he wasn’t there as he sometimes did, leaning off the ropes that led up to the crow’s nest like his namesake. Zoro was sitting on the grass, trying very hard not to stare at the entryway to the kitchen, where Sanji had gone to prepare dinner. 

Zoro looked at Luffy seriously. “I’m alive.”

Luffy grinned at him. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen?”

“Not the best idea.”

“Why?” Luffy scratched his head. “You want to.”

Zoro frowned. “Because of the bonding thing, Luffy.”

Luffy laughed again, a rough and joyful sound. The sirens sounded like violins and barking dogs, right now, but Zoro didn’t know why. Luffy climbed down and onto Zoro’s shoulders despite his protests. “Let’s go. I want food.”

“You’re annoying,” said Zoro, but his brain was already latching onto the excuse to see Sanji, to be closer, _better_ , so he got up, Luffy pounding at his back and snorting as he walked past Nami, who was giving him a look. Zoro had insisted that no one babysit him, that he should control himself, it wasn’t a life or death situation, was it, but he could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes, saw Chopper be less than obvious about following him to the bathroom. But Brook was in the kitchen, anyway. There was no harm to be done by getting Luffy his stupid little snack. None at all.

“Can I eat something?” Luffy was crawling off Zoro’s back to sniff around the kitchen, Sanji whacking him lightly with his foot, making him trip and collapse with laughter. Sanji looked over at Zoro for a long moment, their eyes meeting, Zoro almost shuddering and then feeling embarrassed about it.

“Wait for dinner, dumbass,” said Sanji, sliding his gaze away from Zoro, not even greeting him. Zoro felt prickly, even though he knew this was polite for them, no yelling or grabbing him by the collar. He kind of wished Sanji would-

“Zoro!” said Brook gaily. “Want me to pour you some tea?”

“Uh, no thanks,” said Zoro, sitting next to him and trying to act normal. Luffy was harassing Sanji. Sanji was humoring him, letting him lick the bowl. Zoro was watching, of course.

“Ah,” said Brook after a few minutes, eyeing him. Zoro jumped. “I see.” 

“See what,” replied Zoro, indignant.

“I feel as though I’m intruding on something private,” said Brook conversationally, taking a sip of his tea. Zoro still didn’t understand how that worked. “But you said you wanted us to stop you from completing the bond, so I’ll stay.”

“I’m not-“ Zoro glared at him. “I’m not.”

“Indeed,” said Brook, amused, swirling his tea around. Zoro glared at him some more.

“Surely that shitty swordsman isn’t sitting in here, tempting fate,” said Sanji, icily raising his voice from the stove area. Luffy stopped jumping around to peer at him. “Surely he knows what’s at stake here.” 

Zoro got up without a word, a violent movement that shook the table. He could feel the injuries from Thriller Bark still, faint but there, deeper than he’d care to admit. Chopper had chastised him alone, a few days ago, for taking off his bandages, continuing to exercise his body, and he’d felt ashamed enough that he’d hadn’t lifted any weights since. Sometimes he’d move a certain way and double over, feel like he was going to vomit. “I’m going to the gym,” he said anyway, slamming the door behind him. A sick satisfaction came with knowing that Sanji would be upset about it.

He wasn’t exactly sure _why_ Sanji was upset, though. Sanji was his crew-mate. Zoro would have felt the same, probably. But he felt like he was missing something important, there, though he wasn’t the type to ask questions about _feelings._

The bond immediately started complaining about them being so far apart, the pull unpleasant and never-ending, a distant thrum in Zoro’s chest. He got up to the crow’s nest and didn’t even work out, just sat there on the ground, staring at a ratty towel he hadn’t brought down to wash when he should’ve. He’d found that avoiding thinking about the pull had made it lessen, but he let himself think about it then, curious. Suddenly he knew exactly where Sanji was, what he was doing- _that_ was new. Could sense him flipping over an omelette on the pan, could feel him stop what he was doing, prod at the bond, too, looking straight at him through the walls. The sirens were getting loud, outside; Zoro could hear them through the window, and that was what made him come back to himself, all at once, his heart pounding in his chest with adrenaline rushing at him like a tidal wave, and he got so terrified that he shut it off, somehow, just blocked it out of his mind completely, and the sounds outside stopped and he was only left with his heavy breathing and his fucking metal weights and his scars, big smiles ripped open all across his flesh.

— 

Apparently, the whole crew had been woken up by the sirens the night Zoro and Sanji had been tied together. Nami said they’d found them passed out on the deck, and then when they’d put them on the mattresses, Zoro had started yelling in his sleep, clawing to get to Sanji, who’d woken up and “gone crazy”, as Usopp had described. Zoro wasn’t clear on the details of _that,_ but wasn’t sure it would benefit him to know. Robin had immediately told Chopper to separate them. And then they’d woken up. And then here they were.

“Funny, how fate works,” said Nami to Zoro, that evening, smirking at him from her giant sheet of creamy paper, a map in the making. Zoro was leaned up against her tangerine tree. 

He didn’t dignify her with a response. Nami clucked at him. “Coward.”

“Witch,” said Zoro, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Oh, he speaks,” she said airily, dipping her pen in ink. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“How I feel,” muttered Zoro, watching the leaves of the tree branches above him stay completely, utterly still. It was going to be a warm night.

“Yes,” Nami hummed. “I charge for more in-depth advice, if you’re interested.” Zoro showed her his middle finger.

Zoro tried to sleep out there, but couldn’t, because the pull kept waking him up whenever Sanji moved around. And he _was_ moving around, Zoro could feel it, he was awake and pacing around the kitchen area or somewhere near it. A couple inches closer would rack Zoro’s heartbeat up by a thousand percent. Zoro tried to meditate but couldn’t do that either, obviously, so after polishing his swords for an hour he got up and walked to the kitchen despite himself.

It was a bad idea. It was a really bad idea. “Get out,” said Sanji immediately when he saw him, but Zoro found he couldn’t listen, walking over to the dark part of the room that Sanji had walked into and cornering him against the wall. His heart was pounding, crying out, and the sirens outside were loud, a full-on orchestra, wonderful and definitely loud enough to wake everyone up, but Zoro didn’t care, his hands were on either side of Sanji’s head, and there was a thrill to just getting that close and being able to control it, to telling himself no.

Sanji was panting, too. “Motherfucker,” he was saying. “We could _die.”_

Zoro just watched him glower at him. “Scared?” he said, smile very small. “We could just find out what happens. End it right here.”

Sanji swallowed and Zoro hungrily observed the bob of his Adam’s apple. “It’s not worth it.” But he sounded unsure, his hands twitching at his sides. Zoro could smell him, smell his _cologne,_ something he had only been able to do at the worst of times, carrying him out of a fight, pressed up back-to-back in battle. 

“Come on,” said Zoro, not even hearing himself because he was thinking about whether he should touch Sanji’s cheek or neck first, blood roaring, when Nami came in and started yelling at them and they jumped apart, the sounds outside dying down, the crew gently pushing them to opposite ends of the room, everyone talking at once.

“Enough,” Zoro said bitterly, brushing their hands off. “I can control myself.”

“Oh, really,” muttered Sanji, flattening out a wrinkle in his shirt. “Fucking stupidass _bitch-“_

“Should we restrain you again?” said Chopper amiably.

“ _No_ ,” said Sanji and Zoro at once, and Robin laughed, Usopp giggling in time with Luffy’s chortles. He was reaching for the box of tongue depressors Chopper had left in there earlier with the hand they couldn’t see, but Zoro wasn’t going to point it out. Nami and Brook were walking in, groggy and sleepy, angry at being woken up.

“Someone needs to keep watch on them at night,” Robin said. “They say the dark is the keeper of the oldest secrets.”

“You’re so smart,” swooned Franky, brushing her hair lightly with one of his hands.

“That doesn’t even mean anything,” grumbled Zoro, annoyed, Sanji already on his way over to punch him.

—

“This is all your fault,” Sanji snarled from his bed. Only their legs were restrained. Chopper said to yell a bunch if they needed an escort to the bathroom. It was easier this way, the crew had agreed, and this way they could all get some sleep in peace.

“You’re the one who wanted to hit me,” said Zoro, jaw clenched. There was a tiny voice inside of him screaming _burden!_ again, Sanji’s whining grating against it.

Sanji violently fluffed his pillow for the third time. “You’re the one who _came in-_ “

“Another hour and you would’ve come onto the deck,” growled Zoro. Sanji eyed him tiredly. Zoro laid back on the mattress, exhaling. “For the best.”

“I just want some privacy,” hissed Sanji. “I feel so- so-“

The air changed.

Zoro watched him fiddle with the blankets, eyes hooded. “Yeah.”

Sanji met his look. “Yeah?”

Zoro raised his eyebrows. They stared at each other for a long moment. The middle of the night, it settled around them, finally, the walls too thick for the sirens outside to be anything but a distant hum. Sanji’s eyes darted to Zoro’s left leg, straining against the metal bars Franky had installed. Zoro made it stop.

Sanji looked at his face again, licking his lips. “Marimo-“ Zoro couldn’t think. The pull was already too much, he was going insane, and he wanted so _badly._

“Been a while since I’ve.” Zoro didn’t finish.

Everything was strange, off, because Sanji only nodded. “Since you’ve?”

“You know.”

Sanji studied him for a while like he was deciding what to say. “I get it. Makes this whole thing a lot more…”

They were silent, Sanji slowly straightening his back, exposing his neck just a little, every movement of his eyes on Zoro feeling like a hot brand. Zoro hadn’t really moved, was just laying on his mattress, no sheets, hoping for something, something. He was already half hard under his shorts.

“Do you think…” Sanji seemed almost nervous. Zoro wanted to eat him alive.

“I don’t mind,” said Zoro simply, feeling dizzy.

“Don’t mind?” Sanji gritted out, visibly strained, hands clenched in his sheets. Zoro sympathized; the pull was so much that he had half a mind to break the metal screwed into the mattress. 

“Go ahead and do it,” said Zoro, because they both knew what they were talking about, there was no use in dancing around it. Zoro had never learned how to waltz. He had always barged in, stepping on everyone’s feet. “I know you want to, cook.”

Sanji inhaled sharply. “You don’t have to watch.” But they both knew it was just a formality. He was leaning back and Zoro was alert, sitting up just slightly. There was a long moment.

“Touch yourself,” whispered Zoro. “Come on.”

“You too,” said Sanji, hand cupping his cock through his nice, tailored trousers. “Shithead, I-“

“ _Sanji_ ,” growled Zoro, and Sanji let out a little whine, squeezing his cock hard through the material. “Yeah,” Zoro was saying. “Like that.” 

“Zoro, I,” Sanji was unzipping his pants, “fuck, I, fuck.” Zoro smiled at him, all teeth, the base of his cock in his hands, everything on fire. Sanji was making tiny noises, now, his cock out in the open air, precum dribbling from the end every other time his hand ran across it. 

“Look at me,” said Zoro, greedy, selfish. Sanji opened his eyes a bit and moaned, eyes raking across Zoro’s lower half. “Shit,” said Zoro. “I’m not going to last long.”

“Uhnn,” said Sanji, beautiful, mouth open, _fuck,_ Zoro thought, watching his fingers move, wishing he could bite his neck, shove his tongue in his mouth, lick at his nipples. This was so much. It was too much.

“Good,” moaned Zoro, voice raspier and lower than he’d ever heard it. “You’re so- good-“ Sanji had his hand on his mouth, trying to cover up his noises, and Zoro was so _close_. He wanted this to last longer, he’d been waiting for weeks, months, forever- he was rocking into his own hand, watching Sanji do the same. “Fuck, I wish I could-“

“Zoro, _please_ ,” Sanji whined, the word tapering off into just noise. “Zoro-“

“Mhmm,” said Zoro, satisfied, stretching out his muscles and moving his hand faster, watching Sanji arch his back. “Cum, Sanji. You can cum.”

Sanji obliged, crying out into his palm, leaning forward, hair falling over his face to hide his eyes. Zoro let out a groan as he came into his hand after a few quick, hard strokes, slowing down and rubbing it out until the last of it. Sanji was breathing hard, watching him through his blond lashes and blonder hair, a sharp smile beginning to form on his face, Zoro could tell. 

Sanji’s right hand was sticky and messy and Zoro couldn’t stop looking at it. Sanji noticed and threw his head back a little, chuckling. “Like that, huh?” Zoro didn’t answer. Sanji studied his hand theatrically. “You wanna come over and lick it off?”

Zoro’s brain short-circuited even as Sanji laughed at him. “Shame,” Sanji said breezily, falling back on the bed and snickering almost sweetly, turning to look at Zoro with his eyes bright. “Oh, don’t look so scared, mosshead,” he said, laughing again. 

“I’m not scared,” said Zoro, flushing partly with anger.

“Hmm,” said Sanij, rolling over a bit to face Zoro completely. “The… pull isn’t as bad right now.”

Oh, right. The bond. “Sure,” said Zoro.

Sanji considered him, and there it was again, that nervous look. “Get some sleep, swordsman.” 

Zoro twitched. “You first, dartboard,” he replied, rolling over as much as he could with the restraints on so he wouldn’t have to look at Sanji’s sleeping expression in the moonlight.

—

After that, it was easier not to run after Sanji every time he saw him. During the day, they were allowed to roam the ship as long as someone was watching them. Zoro felt like a child, partly because of the eyes on his back and partly because he felt giddy, excited, heart fluttering and rousing butterflies in every part of him every time he made eye contact with Sanji, every time he sat in the kitchen that day and watched Sanji slide him this _look,_ like he knew what he was thinking, and Zoro wasn’t a daydreamer but he found himself fantasizing about Sanji giving him a small nod, in another timeline, eyes pointing towards the hallway where Zoro would press him up against the wall and touch him and tell him to be quiet.

But they were in this world, in this time, so Zoro watched him prepare breakfast, followed him to the steering wheel, leaning back against the wood and not saying anything as Sanji hummed and tested the wind with a saliva-covered finger: barely anything moving the sails.

“Does it make easier to be near each other like this?” Chopper asked curiously, nibbling on a biscuit during lunch. 

Zoro felt himself blush a little and felt Sanji jump just a tiny bit. “I guess,” said Sanji, eyeing Zoro over his shoulder as he poured Chopper some orange juice. 

“I guess,” echoed Zoro, scarfing down eggs with Luffy. Sanji had made them breakfast for lunch and lunch for breakfast today. Half the crew had thought it was fun and half the crew hadn’t really cared. Everyone had enjoyed the food. 

“Hm,” said Chopper, pulling out a little notebook and scribbling in it. 

Robin watched him do it, amused and pleased at once. “Perhaps it dulls over time.”

Zoro didn’t want to think about anything dulling over time. Sanji shrugged. “The sirens are still out there, though.”

Nami swatted at Luffy’s hand when he tried to get at her sausage. “I’m sure that the movement of the water is their fault somehow. We’re barely moving right now.”

“Don’t worry, Nami dear,” said Sanji, passing her the butter without needing to be asked. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Zoro looked away, felt Sanji look at him, saw him purse his lips out of the corner of his eye. “Same with you, Robin.”

“But Zoro and Sanji don’t want to figure it out,” said Luffy plainly, mouth full of toast. Everyone turned to look at him. 

“Luffy,” growled Zoro. 

“Zoro,” replied Luffy sunnily, grinning at him.

Brook murmured something to Franky. Nami clucked her tongue at Zoro like she had done the day before. Sanji looked at her and shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

“Right, Sanji?” Luffy prodded again, Usopp going for _his_ plate now, Luffy letting out a yelp as he took his last piece of toast.

“Your turn to help with dishes, mosshead,” was all Sanji said, getting up. 

Zoro rolled his eyes, rising, the clatter of utensils getting louder with the noise outside- if he listened close he could hear birds chirping, wind chimes hitting each other in the wind. But there were no birds, there was no wind. The air was still and hot, inching its way through the open porthole near the sink.

Every almost-touch was a thrill. Sanji’s hands in full view, his toned legs much too close. Zoro hated doing the dishes, there was no joy for him in such a mindless, easy task, but he liked watching Sanji do the dishes, always had. Liked doing it with him, even with Robin’s presence behind them, reading some book. He remembered the smaller sink of the Going Merry, the way Sanji had kept it sparkling clean despite its older nature. He remembered one day, a good one, when Sanji had sung a song Zoro hadn’t known under his breath, the sound only audible because of how quiet and humid of a day it had been, the heat making even Luffy slow and bored above-deck, fishing with Usopp. 

And there it was, the same song, floating in through the window, gorgeous and loud and not slightly off-key like Sanji had sung it. Sanji suddenly jerked, dropping his plate into the sink full of soapy water. Zoro sighed.

“Sorry,” said Sanji, startled out of character. “They’re singing something I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“Oh,” said Zoro. “I hear it too.”

“Excuse me?” Sanji was looking out the window like he’d be able to see something.

“You sung it once,” said Zoro, awfully embarrassed but refusing to show it. “Before we got to the Grand Line.”

Sanji looked at him. “Ah.” He swallowed. “I see. Well.” He rolled up his sleeves a bit more; they were already rolled up very high. “My mom used to sing that to me. Once in a while.” It was sweet, the way his expression jittered around.

“That’s sweet,” Zoro said out loud, then flushed, handing him a dish. He was very aware of Robin behind them, peacefully turning a page.

Sanji didn’t look at him, face red. Zoro didn’t push him. Again, Zoro felt like a kid. _A crush_ , his sensei would’ve said. _A crush! Wonderful, Zoro. Nothing to be embarrassed about._

“Do you guys hear that?” said Chopper from the doorway, giddy. “They’re singing something and we can all hear the same thing!”

Sanji looked over and was amused by his excitement. “Yeah,” said Sanji, smile growing large. “We hear it.” Zoro couldn’t stop himself from looking straight at it, that smile- golden and unabashed. _Have you heard of the All Blue?_

Zoro was once more hit by a rush of daydreams- that grin, directed at him. He handed Sanji the last dish and got out of there as fast he could. The sirens were chirping, roaring, baying at him, they were terrible. “Shut up,” Zoro yelled at them, retreating to the crow’s nest and sulking alone, trying to nap but unable to, the pull tugging at him as always. “Shut up,” he said again, tired, so tired.

—

Zoro avoided Sanji the rest of the day until late evening, when he had somehow found his way to a section of the ship that was definitely the wrong way to the infirmary. Usopp had gotten distracted by something Luffy was doing while escorting him and Zoro had ended up alone in this dark hallway. 

Sanji was near him in seconds. Zoro couldn’t bring himself to care how this had happened, how it had lined up, if Sanji had been following him all along- Sanji’s hands were near his face, shaking like he coudn’t stand it, and Zoro knew how he felt, wanted to press his mouth up against Sanji’s jaw and ear and corner of his mouth, wanted to mark up his chest after ripping his shirt off. There was something feral that awoke in him, when they were alone, something that only knew desire and achieving the end of it, and so he was having trouble collecting his thoughts, was having trouble not unzipping Sanji’s pants and kneeling on the ground to swallow him whole.

“Fuck,” said Sanji slowly. “I missed you.” 

This was nonsensical to Zoro. “It’s only been a few hours,” he said, watching the rise and fall of Sanji’s chest. They weren’t even doing anything; it was just Sanji, leaning towards Zoro, who was pressed against the wall. It had barely been a day and anyway, all they’d done was jack off in front of each other, it wasn’t like-

“Five hours,” said Sanji. “That’s more than a few.” His hand was reaching up like he was going to touch Zoro’s shirt. 

Zoro stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re not-“

“No,” said Sanji quickly. “I was just wondering if it counts if we touch through clothing.” Zoro heaved a breath as Sanji looked down at his rising erection. “Haven’t you thought about that?”

Zoro ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “No.” _But now I am,_ he didn’t have to say.

“Mm,” said Sanji, agreeing, and Zoro looked closely at his expression now: he looked crazy, ravenous, a bead of sweat forming on his neck, eyes more closed than not, calculated and ruthless, the way he did before he started a fight he knew he would win. Sure of himself and self-sacrificing at the same time. He was like a mirror, in a way, but Zoro didn’t have time to think about that now.

“Cook,” said Zoro, watching Sanji brush a hand over his own erection like he couldn’t help himself. 

Sanji looked at him, almost entertained. “Yeah, mosshead?

“This is dangerous,” said Zoro, but saying it out loud only made it more exciting.

“Yeah,” said Sanji, leaning in and inhaling near Zoro’s neck. “Damn, you smell good.”

Zoro sneered at him but the waver of his voice betrayed him. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah,” said Sanji again, unfazed. “Fuck, it wouldn’t hurt to just-“ Zoro closed his eyes as Sanji breathed against his neck, spoke right next to his ear. “Right? Just once?”

Zoro held back a groan. Sanji didn’t hold back his. Zoro imagined he was touching his cock through his jeans, rough and hard, the way Zoro would want to, fuck. The pull was fierce and unrelenting, and he couldn’t help but start to agree- just an inch and- just a tiny bit more and his mouth would be-

“Tell me to do it, Zoro,” Sanji murmured, and Zoro could almost feel his tongue against his neck. He wanted. He wanted.

“Yeah,” Zoro breathed, blissful and quiet, his voice soft and acquiescing, and he hoped Sanji would use his teeth on him, the first time. “Yeah.”

Usopp let out a squeak from the other side of the hallway and Sanji pulled back, almost frowning. They didn’t jump apart immediately as they had previously until a few moments too late. Sanji looked at him, dark eyes clearing up a bit. “Well,” was all he said, sighing and putting his hands in his pockets, but he kept looking at Zoro with a cruel little grin like, _what can you do,_ walking towards and past Usopp, who was spluttering and telling them they were lucky nothing had happened.

“Lucky,” Zoro mused, walking up to him.

Usopp shot him a frustrated look. “Yeah, stupid. I guess we all shouldn’t be surprised that you two couldn’t keep it in your pants for a few _days,_ but you’re going to get _me_ in trouble for not watching you for like five seconds, we could hear the sirens through the _walls-_ “

Zoro gave him a venomous look. “Glad everyone seems to have an opinion.”

“Oh my god, it’s _this_ way,” Usopp said, grabbing his arm and pulling him in the right direction to the infirmary. Sanji was talking to Robin up ahead in a low voice. Usopp seemed to think for a moment, then laughed.

“What,” said Zoro, annoyed.

“It’s just so funny.” Usopp was trying to stop giggling. “Nami was right, this is so funny.” Zoro had to pull out his sword to make him shut up.

—

Night fell and soon it would rise into something else, of course, but after Zoro had moaned Sanji’s name they’d laid in their beds and Sanji had looked at him and said, “Zoro,” in this kind voice that wouldn’t let Zoro sleep, not at all, because all he could do was think about kissing him, not just fucking him, he’d turned into a sap who didn’t only think about Sanji’s mouth but thought about embracing him, burying his face in his neck, pressing a kiss on his jaw just to rile him up. Zoro had never been sweet, but he now counted his hours by how many times he had to stop himself from running over to Sanji. The pull had turned itself into something different by now, of course, not just a desire to be close but a desire for everything. Sanji, laughing at Luffy. Sanji, smirking over a perfectly cooked meal. Sanji, arranging napkins on the table before everyone arrived. Sanji, determined as he pulled the sails down, kind as he handed Chopper a plate, observant as he watched Zoro watch any of this, almost pleased, not unlike a cat who knew he’d made the right move, gotten the kill, bird in its jaws in the morning.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” begged Zoro the next night, desperate, keening, trying to touch his cock as slow as possible because he wanted this one to last. 

“What, like this?” Sanji said smugly, watching Zoro rut against his hand on his own bed as he sucked. “Not sure why you get so excited about it.”

Zoro didn’t want to explain. Sanji didn’t seem to understand that it drove him crazy, watching him refuse to use his hands for anything but the most important things to him- cooking, cleaning, and, apparently, touching Zoro when this was all over. Presumably. Zoro was assuming. “It’s just.” Zoro swallowed. “Hot.”

“I’ve always thought that my legs were my best feature,” said Sanji, smiling almost meanly as he wrapped his spit-slicked fingers around his dick.

“That too,” Zoro said absentmindedly, much to Sanji’s delight. He didn’t like how smug he was getting, though. “After this I’m going to fuck you so hard you stop smiling like that.”

Sanji looked at him, eyebrow raised. “Ooh, I’m so scared, marimo.”

—

Zoro was starting to find the sirens and their noises comforting; the rustle of a wheat field in fall, the low cry of a bullfrog in the spring. People laughing, always. The noises were never upsetting, just unknown where his instincts were telling him he knew them, somehow. And more often than not, he would hear something very, very familiar, and Sanji would hear it too, along with everyone else, and though it was sometimes sweet, it was often too vulnerable for his own tastes and he felt exposed and raw and wrong where he shouldn’t.

“Y’shouldn’t worry,” said Luffy, gnawing on the last of a popsicle he’d managed to sneak past Sanji from the freezer. 

“About what.” Zoro was shining Shusui; he wanted to train in the crow’s nest but Chopper was watching him pointedly like he knew and he was tired of feeling guilty around him.

“‘Bout Sanji,” Luffy singsonged, throwing the popsicle stick overboard, Chopper shrieking at him to stop littering. Luffy ignored him, laughing. 

Zoro sighed. “Sure, Captain.”

Luffy looked at him curiously, and then up at the sky. “Sounds like Shells Town,” he said, blinking. “Seagulls.”

Zoro could hear it, too. He tilted his head at Luffy. He wasn’t the type to look back and talk about it, but nobody really knew what Luffy actually thought about, did they?“That was a long time ago.”

Luffy smiled at him. “Yeah.” He started to pick his nose. Zoro frowned at him. “Sanji likes you. Don’t worry.” He grinned. “First mate.” 

Zoro nodded. He wondered when he would be able to tell him about the fight with Kuma. Everything hurt. His scars still ached. Luffy climbed on top of him and hit him until he gave him a piggy back ride to where Usopp was sitting, but somehow he didn’t even feel it. He smiled when Usopp and Luffy started to sing along with the sirens, even though it grated at his ears; Brook was applauding, the sun was creating ripples in the air, and Zoro was sweaty, at peace, and Chopper was clinging onto his legs, tears in his eyes from laughing so much. Zoro listened.

—

“Show me your scars,” said Sanji, and Zoro refused immediately, heartbeat increasing too much in too little time, brutal and savage and familiar, so familiar. Being around Sanji so much had given him less space in his brain for hating himself and feeling like shit all the time. Even night time had been taken away from him, his time to give himself the gift of low self esteem; now the rest of the crew were keeping watch at the crow’s nest, Usopp and Chopper’s candy wrappers strewn in weird places, one of Nami’s pens forgotten on the floor. It was a good thing, yes, sure, whatever, but he found himself scratching violently at the crook of his arm, where one of his scars was morphing into an ugly scab.

“Why not,” said Sanji patiently, eyeing Zoro’s movement closely.

Zoro couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I’m scared, cook.”

“You wanna talk about fear, Zoro?” Sanji lit up a cigarette, and Zoro was stricken by how unbothered he was by Zoro’s admonition. “I’m terrified that I’m in deeper than you are.”

Sanji had followed Zoro up to the crow’s nest. Zoro didn’t know how he kept sneaking away from the rest of the crew, but he was getting good at it, which was both worrisome and incredibly exciting. 

Zoro watched him for a long, long while. Sanji started to get antsy. “Fuckhead,” he said. “Say something.”

“No,” said Zoro, mind racing much too fast for his mouth. He didn’t trust himself. What did he want to say? Their bond was a constant, now, a friend, and he was glad it happened, was aware of how selfish that might sound. He didn’t trust himself not to say something about his numerous daydreams, wondering what it must’ve been like, growing up as Sanji, someone so easily tender and giving and sharp all at once. What did he want to say- that he had fantasized about a day where he could grab Sanji by the collar and kiss him in front of the world, that they could sit at a table together with the crew and have their little moments of banter with no real bite, yelling and everyone watching fondly, _like an old married couple, those two,_ that he’d fantasized about telling Sanji about Kuina, about his childhood, and then wiped that all away whenever he’d seen him, because that shit didn’t matter, they were so much better, now, in the moment, Sanji walking in front of him, swaggering even as he was about to collapse, saying _what about your ambition, Zoro,_ almost spitting on him even as he was copying him, trying to kill himself to protect their crew. What did he want to say- the sirens kept saying it for him. Maybe he didn’t even need to say it.

“No?” said Sanji flatly, exhaling smoke, Zoro watching it happen, and in the silver light of the rising moon it was like they were up in the clouds, always had been, waving down at the unmoving sea below them. The singing was so loud, outside, a million sounds at once, a cacophony of strange things, of good memories.

“No,” said Zoro, again. He felt his heart clench. He heard a trumpet outside, heard the crescendo he’d known was coming. “I think about you every night.”

Sanji looked at him. Understanding. They were the same. They were not. “Time to have a little talk, mosshead.” 

Zoro’s feelings took a different turn. Sanji was grabbing his arm but it seemed like he didn’t realize he was doing it. Zoro had been waiting for this, had been dreading it. And now they were alone in a small space, the one he’d turned into something sad and lonely, the creak of the ship the only thing they could hear now. “The sirens,” Zoro said, because it was dead silent, what the fuck-

“No,” said Sanji, shaking his head at him, “you don’t get to change the subject anymore. I can’t watch you-“ He shook his head some more, his hand tighter against Zoro’s bicep. “I can’t watch you tear yourself apart anymore.”

“You were more than willing to let yourself die, then, too,” said Zoro, lowly.

Sanji didn’t let go of his arm but looked out the window, considering. “You know I get you.” His gaze was smoldering. Sanji and fire. Sanji and the ocean. Zoro couldn’t pin him down, could always. “I fucking _get_ you.” He was in his face, now. “But I’m not gonna stand here and watch you fall apart alone.”

“I’m not-“

“Oh, but you are,” said Sanji venomously. “Fucking shit for brains. Moss for brains. You think we can’t stand by your side? It’s insulting.”

“No, you can’t,” said Zoro, trying anything, anything, to get the upper hand, to find the right barb to lodge into Sanji’s argument, but Sanji just took another drag from his cigarette, glaring at him. “I’m the first mate, we’re not strong enough and I have to protect-“

Sanji pulled him up by the shirt, furious. He wouldn’t take the bait. It had been so much easier when they were able to pretend they truly hated each other, but they’d stopped even a few weeks after leaving the Baratie. “No,” he said. “We protect each _other.”_

Zoro realized, then. “Sanji,” he started, staring at his shirt, at Sanji’s hand on his arm.

“Show me the scars,” roared Sanji, and Zoro loved him so much when he was angry, but he couldn’t show him, didn’t want to.

“No,” said Zoro, tearing himself away, forgetting the silence and the sirens and all of it, because he didn’t-

“Show me,” hissed Sanji, cigarette falling out of his mouth. “Zoro.”

“I’m not like you,” said Zoro desperately, pleading now. “I don’t get to just _say_ things-“

“Yes, you do,” said Sanji, eyes following him quickly, not letting him go. He was so serious. “I’m telling you, shithead, I _understand_ you.”

Zoro was tearing up, but that couldn’t be right, he never- “Fuck you,” he said, burying his face in Sanji’s neck, and Sanji was gripping at him tightly, quiet, listening to him cry. Zoro hated it. He hated it more than anything. “Fuck you, cook.”

“Yeah, fuck me,” said Sanji softly. “I know.” Zoro showed him his scars. Sanji yelled at him and then applied ointment on them and then Zoro kissed him and kissed him until he remembered that the sirens had stopped making noise and that he was supposed to be worried about it. “Shit,” they both said, as the crew came on deck to scream at them. 

—

The wind picked up almost immediately. The music was gone, the sirens were nowhere, nowhere.

“So nothing happened,” said Nami, evidently disappointed at the lack of drama.

“Well,” said Robin, smiling with Brook and Franky. Zoro rolled their eyes at them. 

“We should test out what contact with other people does,” said Chopper nervously, and Zoro reached out and poked Usopp, who screamed.

“There,” said Zoro, almost bored. Luffy was poking at Usopp now, too, delighted to find that Usopp was ticklish. Zoro almost felt sorry for him. 

“Shithead,” muttered Sanji, hands in his pockets. Everyone else was studying them very closely. “Stop doing that,” Sanji said to them, angry, then immediately apologized to Nami and Robin for using that tone of voice with them.

“I don’t know why I like you,” Zoro said later, even though he did know, pressing him against the wall of the kitchen after watching Sanji roll up his sleeves.

“Ditto,” said Sanji, smirking at him, because he knew, too, sliding his hand against Zoro’s neck, watching Zoro bite his fingers. 

“That’s it,” Sanji said, slowly pushing them into Zoro’s mouth, letting him suck, Zoro feeling red all over. Zoro was pumping Sanji’s cock with his hands, noticing how he bit back every sound he was about to make.

“Sanji,” Zoro said, just to get him to be noisy, and then Sanji did moan, head thumping against the wall. 

“Shit,” he said. “Fuck."

Zoro grunted in agreement, sliding his hands under his shirt to pinch his nipples, Sanji’s skin hot underneath the pads of his fingers. “Good,” Zoro said, because he hadn’t forgotten about Sanji’s earlier reactions, and Sanji was keening, humping his leg. “Forget lunch,” Zoro said, pleased. “I wanna fuck you.”

Sanji meekly pushed at his chest, then moaned again as Zoro shoved a hand down his pants. “Later, moss- head-“

“Later?” repeated Zoro, having too much fun. He got on his knees, nosing against Sanji’s hard cock through the material of his pants. “You’re saying something different down here.”

“You’re evil,” said Sanji, breathy, covering his eyes with the crook of his arm, blushing everywhere Zoro could see skin. “Absolutely the worst.” 

Zoro eyed him as he took his cock out and licked a stripe up to Sanji’s balls. Sanji bit on his own hand so he wouldn’t cry out. Zoro hummed and sucked him off until even that couldn’t hold him back anymore, small whines as he drooled against his knuckles. 

The next island was close, Nami said. Robin and Chopper were excited to ask the islanders about the sirens- they were sure, now, that the whole business was some sort of symbol of love, a scientific phenomenon attracted to couples who hadn't yet "done it", as Franky had gleefully said, much to Zoro and Sanji’s embarrassment. Someone had to keep watch, and so Sanji volunteered to do it; Zoro didn’t protest. They both knew he would come up there when no one was looking.

Sanji took the bottle of scar ointment out from his shirt pocket without any theatrics, pouring it onto his hands, slowly spreading it all over Zoro’s back, his chest. Neither of them said much, but Sanji was taking his time tonight, leaning in close so his breath was hot against Zoro’s neck.

“You trying to get me excited?” Zoro said, side-eyeing him.

“I don’t know, is it working?” said Sanji slyly, flicking Zoro’s nipple with his fingernail, Zoro closing his eyes with pleasure. Zoro wanted to press Sanji against the wooden floor and fuck him then, but Sanji seemed to sense it, holding him in place. “Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I’m gonna take care of you.” Zoro shuddered.

“You’re good at that,” Zoro said, as Sanji kneaded at his thighs. Sanji looked at him, pupils dilated and inquisitive. “Taking care of people,” Zoro clarified, and Sanji looked at him some more before shoving his tongue in his mouth, gripping his dick underneath his underwear. 

Sanji mouthed at Zoro’s ear. “Gonna ride you.” 

Zoro pressed into his touch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Sanji, guiding Zoro’s hand to his ass, helping him slide a finger in with some lube he’d also hidden behind his shirt. “Fuck, keep going.”

“There?” said Zoro, watching him closely, crooking his finger a certain way that got Sanji squirming. 

Sanji let out a broken _yes,_ moving against his second finger, his third. “Okay,” he said, pushing Zoro away, settling onto his lap with his weird sort of grace and maneuvering Zoro’s cock towards his entrance. “Oh, god.”

“What,” said Zoro, already almost gone. “If it hurts, get off.”

“No,” said Sanji weakly. “You’re just so big. Fuck.”

Zoro tried moving a bit, watching a drop of sweat trickle across Sanji’s collarbone. The heat was less now that they were moving but the crow’s nest always got stuffy with the windows closed. Sanji groaned, pressing his cheek to Zoro’s. “Fuck,” he said again. He started to move, too, and Zoro felt inexperienced, young, as he realized he was already so close to coming, watching Sanji thrust in time with him, feeling him kiss him, sloppy and wet and less than elegant. 

He felt Sanji clench around his cock. “Shit,” he said, voice gravelly. “Sanji, I’m gonna-“

Sanji moaned and kissed him again, lifting off to grip his dick with his hands. “Do it, Zoro. You can cum,” he said, so close to what Zoro had said to him that first time, and Zoro came as Sanji kissed his shoulder, sucking and then using his teeth.

“Where’d the moon go,” said Zoro, peering out the window he opened to air out the room. The air was quiet and warm and friendly. He quite liked it. He’d sucked Sanji off, letting him pull at his hair and mutter curses at him until he came.

Sanji got up to look with him. “Behind a cloud. Look there.” He pointed and then grinned at Zoro, that smile there, now, the one that Zoro had dreamed about. “But you know what they say. The dark is the keeper of the oldest secrets.” 

“Fuck off.” Zoro shoved him to the ground, laughing with him, laughing, the sound both new and old, familiar and unfamiliar, Sanji’s hair messy on his face and the whole thing making Zoro’s ribs hurt, and he felt that this was somehow the same as and better, much better, than feeling like he was a kid again. 


End file.
